


A new beginning because forever is never forever

by KittieHill



Series: Prompts [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Even Molly is happy, Feels, First Time, Fluff, Hangover, Happy Ending, Humour, John is confused, Kissing, Making Love, Mary is Not Nice, Music, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Poor John, Prompt Fill, Rimming, Soppy, Surprisingly Happy with this fic, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt 'Drunken phone confessions' and i was given an hour to write. </p>
<p>Please let me know what you think; I intend to write more as i think the story has more to offer than stopping it there! </p>
<p>Also, i take requests so please let me know!</p>
<p>Title taken from the song Memories by Ólafur Arnalds (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=710oAs1OXgU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John startled awake at the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table; the bright white light stung his eyes and forced his pupils to react painfully as he looked over at the display on his mobile,

**Sherlock calling:**

Looking over at Mary who was still sleeping soundly John sighed and climbed from the warm comfort of his marital bed, grimacing as the cold wooden floor ran through his feet as he exited the bedroom onto the landing and then down the stairs into the living room where he answered;

‘Sherlock?’

‘Yesh’ was the slurred reply,

‘It’s almost 4 in the morning, what’s wrong?’ John asked. He wasn’t worried yet, Sherlock had absolutely no idea about suitable and acceptable times to call John whether during the day or night.

‘John’ Sherlock’s reply was soft, almost a needy inhale against John’s ear ‘John’

‘Sherlock, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong’ John insisted, his heart beating slightly faster.

‘You don’t understand’ Sherlock sighed, ‘You never understand’

John gripped the bridge of his nose tightly ‘are you high?’

Sherlock scoffed into the handset of his mobile ‘No. Mycroft has threatened all my dealers and I could make some of my own but… well… I thought you might be disappointed in me’

John sat on the comfortable sofa staring at the dark room; he hadn’t put on the light as he didn’t want to wake himself up too much. He planned on climbing back into bed as soon as Sherlock hung up ‘Ok, so you’re not high. What don’t I understand?’

‘Everything John. Me. This. Us. You’ Sherlock sighed sadly ‘You can’t see’

‘I don’t understand when you talk in riddles’ John added tensely ‘So just tell me what’s wrong’

Sherlock’s voice lightened slightly, John heard the sound of liquid being poured ‘I’ve discovered alcohol. Well… Not discovered it, I knew it was a real thing. I’ve discovered how good it is for drinking’

John ran his hands over his face; a drunken Sherlock was not what he needed at 4am on a Wednesday morning before his Clinic shift ‘and you called to tell me how great it is?’

Sherlock silenced himself for a moment; his breathing the only audible sound. John wondered if the whole of London had been silenced by Sherlock’s breathing which was deep and even, drowning out all other noises around him.

‘I called to tell you how great you are’ Sherlock said finally after a prolonged silence,

John laughed until he realised that Sherlock wasn’t laughing too; the detective was still silent.

‘Sherlock?’ John whispered ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I love you John’ Sherlock replied, his voice thick with emotion,

‘And I love you too, but I still don’t understand’ John sighed,

‘No John. I love you. Body, mind, soul, spirit, everything’ Sherlock choked ‘I can’t make myself stop, I can’t delete the feelings and it’s _so bloody frustrating_ ’

John’s heart pounded, he could hear his blood rushing through his ears as his brain processed the information ‘Sh-Sherl’

Sherlock interrupted him with a stream of rushed words ‘I never wanted you to leave. I didn’t want to drive you away. I didn’t want to pretend to die or leave you but I couldn’t let anything happen to you. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved’

John remained silent, pinching his leg in a bid to wake himself up from this obvious dream.

‘I thought that once you married Mary id forget it. My stupid, pointless, sentimental brain would accept that you were with somebody else and id go on and continue my experiments, The Work, but I can’t John. I can’t’

The doctor heard the tell-tale broken sniffle of emotion breaking through Sherlock’s velvet voice. A quiet sob quickly bitten back by Sherlock who was desperately attempting to hold himself in check;

‘The first night’ John whispered ‘I asked… and you said you were married to your work’

‘I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable in my presence. I’ve never been good at this thing’ Sherlock admitted ‘relationships. Emotions. _Sex’_

John’s heart fluttered at the word slipping from Sherlock’s drunken lips, _this has to stop_ his brain screamed; they were going into dangerous territory. This could ruin their friendship forever.

‘You want to have sex with me?’ John asked softly, nerves evident in his shaky voice.

‘Very much so John’ Sherlock groaned ‘I can’t stop thinking about it. My masturbation habits have sky rocketed since we met. It used to be once a month, now it’s multiple times a day’

John’s cock twitched in interest whilst John’s brain screamed that this wasn’t possible; this simply couldn’t be happening.

‘But you’re not gay’ Sherlock said sadly ‘and now you’re married and a father to be’

‘We should talk about this… when you’re not drunk and it’s not 4am’ John soothed ‘We need to talk about this’

Sherlock sighed against the phone; John pictured him standing with his head resting against the wallpapered wall of Baker Street, phone against his ear and alcohol glass in his other hand. His eyes closed and his hair ruffled.

‘I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck, I want to kiss, I want to dance and hug and BE John, I want to live again instead of this constant grinding monotony without you here beside me… _where you belong’_

John’s stomach ached and he put his head into his remaining hand; chills racked his body from the cold December air and he wished he was anywhere but here doing anything but having this conversation.

‘Tomorrow’ John sighed ‘After the clinic’

Sherlock inhaled shakily and John heard the gulping sound of Sherlock drinking more.

‘Tomorrow’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so after writing 1000 words on part 1 i decided it needed part 2... which snowballed into 5,000 words. 
> 
> Smut, angst, fluff, happy endings, the usual nonsense from me :) I also made myself giggle at the thought of Sherlock getting psyched up by Wager and pumping himself up to phone John. It's so sweet. 
> 
> This story is complete so i wont be writing anymore, but if you want something specific let me know in comments or follow me on twitter @HereKittieKat

The shift at the clinic couldn’t have gone slower; John already feeling the strain of his 4am wakeup call had been unable to sleep after hanging up on Sherlock so had taken a long, hot and deep bath to try to clear his mind. It hadn’t worked.

The clinic was full of crying children; a stomach bug had swept through schools rampantly leaving vomiting toddlers in its wake. John had constantly reassured worried parents and suggested lots of water and Calpol hoping that something more interesting would come through the door to ease the almost painful whirring in his mind.

His lunch was bland and tasteless and he ate it in his consulting room in silence, unwilling to spend the time with Mary incase she noticed his distant staring and frostiness. He deposited the wrappers in the bin and checked his mobile for texts from Sherlock, finding none he quickly composed one and sent it without thinking too much,

_How are you feeling? – JW_

His text alert chimed seconds later making John jump at the noise in the silent room,

_Dying. Why do people do this John? Alcohol is the devil – SH_

_You don’t believe in the devil – JW_

_That’s because I’d never suffered a hangover. Bring me something from the clinic? Something which will make it go away – SH_

_Drink lots of water and eat some toast. I’ll be there after the shift – JW_

_Are we going to talk about what I said last night? – SH_

_Yes. – JW_

_Do we have to? – SH_

_Yes. – JW_

John switched his mobile to silent before placing it in his drawer and logging back into the system to let the receptionists know that he was able to see patients; grimacing through another four hours of boredom inducing banality.

* * *

 

Sherlock lay on the bathroom floor; he couldn’t technically remember how he ended up on the cold floor, or why he was naked except socks, he just realised that whenever he tried to move he would feel the wave of nausea rush through him. He decided to lay there until he eventually recovered or decomposed; whichever happened first.

His mind whirred into action as he remembered the previous night. He had been desperate to use heroin again, the familiar itching in his veins pulling his mind apart until he lost his temper and started to shout abuse at Billy the Skull who sat, unseeing on the mantelpiece much to Sherlock’s anger. He wanted to fight, he wanted to argue and scream, he wanted to fuck and be fucked.

He had remembered the bottle of Scotch which he had _liberated_ from Mycroft’s house; walking to the kitchen he pulled out the bottle and blew away the dust from the expensive drink before grabbing a glass tumbler and sitting in his seat. He had moved John’s chair out of his line of sight due to the hollow feeling it caused to settle low in his stomach each time he looked up, expecting to see John doing something tedious like breathing or using his laptop.

But John wasn’t there anymore so it made sense that Sherlock would get rid of his chair ( _since when had it been deemed John’s chair? He’d had it before John moved in. If anything it was HIS chair but John had claimed it with his delightfully cushy arse and suddenly Sherlock had decided it belonged to John? Ridiculous)_. Sherlock poured himself a glass of Scotch, taking a deep gulp of the warming liquid and feeling it burn down his throat and blaze into his stomach. He sighed deeply and let his head fall back onto the headrest of his chair before reaching for his record player and moving the arm across the vinyl.

If John was here, he would have told Sherlock that 1am was too late to play Chopin at full volume. The vibrations causing slight ripples in his drink as he picked out each note, relaxing into the piece; he took another drink, and another, before pouring more scotch into the glass and repeating the motions.

By 3am he was already far too drunk for rational thought; he paced around the room muttering to himself and the skull, attempting to make himself (and the skull) understand the thoughts whizzing through his head. He returned to the record player and pulled out the Wager vinyl, placing the arm on the groove he paced again as the dramatic music boomed around him, he lifted his arms like a conductor, looking out of the Baker Street windows into the cold, dark London night as though it held all of the answers to his unending questions.

When Ride of the Valkyries began; Sherlock stopped pacing to listen to the music. The theatrical sounds seemed to mix with his blood and pumped around his body, his mind felt sharper, his drunkenness abating as he decided on his course of action.

**_He would go into battle!   He would declare his feelings to John! He was a reasonable man, they had been friends for a lot of years (granted, two of those were when John thought he was dead but still!) and John respected and cared for Sherlock. Calling him right this second was definitely a very, very good idea!_ **

Grabbing his mobile Sherlock bounced on his heels, his body felt psyched up and charged. He was going to tell John how he felt, clicking off the music his finger hovered over John’s name and then clicked it, his heart nervously thudding as the dial tone rang and rang.

John answered! Sherlock’s stomach flipped and his mouth felt dry as his confidence waned and he collapsed into his chair to think of something to say to a clearly tired John.

Declaring his love for John and his repeated masturbation habits was _probably_ not the smartest move… neither was admitting that Sherlock wanted to have sex with John.

From the bathroom floor Sherlock groaned and attempted to curl himself into a smaller ball; hoping that by some stroke of luck a meteor might hit the flat and wipe out only the bathroom, or that he would spontaneously combust.

The sound of Mycroft entering was the last thing he expected or needed;

‘Oh Sherlock’ Mycroft said softly as he looked at his brother curled naked on the floor

‘Go away, I’m dying and we have no cake’ Sherlock spat attempting to sound threatening but sounding petulant and small.

‘Hmmm as I see. What a sight you make’ Mycroft rolled his eyes comically ‘Shall I help you get up?’

‘I’m worried that if I move, I might be very, very sick’ Sherlock admitted with a grimace

Mycroft pulled off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, leaving the umbrella by the door he walked to the bathroom, flushing the still vomit lined toilet as he passed. Helping Sherlock sit and take a sip of water was the first step towards getting his brother mobile so Mycroft persevered, letting Sherlock stop and rest whenever the wave of nausea threatened to crash over him.

Eventually, Sherlock was standing and allowed Mycroft to cover his naked and cold body with his dressing gown. The two brothers stumbled into the living room where Sherlock collapsed onto the sofa; watching nervously as Mycroft began making tea and something fizzy which Sherlock couldn’t see. A small gasp of shock escaped Mycroft as he opened the fridge and looked over the contents ( _a Lettice, a small carton of milk, half a human leg)._ Mycroft decided to do without milk and walked back to Sherlock with two cups of tea and a glass of frothy white.

‘What’s that?’ Sherlock asked

‘Alka-Seltzer’ Mycroft smiled ‘Cure all hangover remedy… unless you want a fried breakfast? I thought I heard Mrs Hudson frying bacon’

Sherlock turned slightly green at the gills before swallowing deeply and shaking his head, picking up the glass he downed the chemical tasting concoction before washing it down with sweet tea.

‘So… Why are you here?’ Sherlock asked, clearly antsy.

‘You didn’t answer my calls’ Mycroft shrugged

‘I was indisposed’ Sherlock grimaced

‘So I see. So, tell me, how did John react to your confession?’

Sherlock blanched and stood on shaky legs, rushing back to the bathroom in time to make it to the toilet before retching.

* * *

 

John kissed Mary sweetly at the door of the clinic before rushing off for a taxi to Baker Street; he wondered whether he should pick up something on the way and asked the driver to drop him at the local Tesco by his old home. Picking up his hangover remedy (Diet Coke, ginger biscuits, paracetamol) he quickly paid and walked the short distance to Baker Street, letting himself in with his keys.

He popped in to see Mrs Hudson first, giving her a kiss on the cheek and the chocolate bar he had bought for her. She fussed over him asking about Mary and the baby, how the pregnancy was progressing and whether John was eating enough much to John’s delight. He had missed his landlady.

‘How has Sherlock been?’ John asked softly watching Mrs Hudson lower her eyes to the floor

‘He’s missed you terribly John’ she admitted, placing a hand on John’s elbow

‘Any sign of him using again? Anything suspicious?’ John asked

‘He was playing Wagner at 3am this morning, or so I’m told. I’d taken my soother’ the older lady admitted ‘Go on up and see to him John’

John kissed her on the cheek again and said goodbye, closing the door quietly and walking up the stairs to his home. His old home.

* * *

 

Sherlock heard the mumbling voices of John and Mrs Hudson and curled into a tighter ball on the sofa. Mycroft had left shortly after Sherlock had dressed and explained what he had said to John with a small smile creasing his face as though the older Holmes was amused at Sherlock’s silliness. Sherlock had mentally thrown something at him from across the room as he was unable to move without feeling sick.

John walked up the stairs and opened the door quietly; Sherlock heard him hanging up his coat and toeing off his shoes ( _a habit picked up from living with Mary)_ before entering the room and looking down at Sherlock with a genuine smile,

‘If it isn’t the great adventurer. Back from his travels at pissed up bay’

‘John. I feel like somebody scooped out my brain with an ice cream scoop so can we please ignore what I said and pretend it didn’t happen? Let’s just delete it?’ Sherlock winced

‘Where is my chair?’ John asked puzzled

‘Moved it’ Sherlock replied without looking ‘better view of the kitchen’

‘Charming’ John mumbled before sitting in Sherlock’s seat.

The two men sat silently; Sherlock with his back to John whilst the doctor looked around the room at the new scuffs and burn marks which littered his once tidy flat. Neither man wanted to be the first to speak,

‘So’ John began before quickly losing his nerve

‘Yes’ Sherlock replied anxiously.

The pair slowly descended back into silence.

* * *

 

‘This is ridiculous’ John spat after another five minutes of staring anywhere but at Sherlock ‘we’re fully grown men, we should be able to talk about this’

Sherlock slowly turned over to face John, his face red and slightly wet from the tears which had run down his face during the awkward silence between the two previously best friends.

‘I’ve ruined everything’ Sherlock sniffed, sitting up and putting his head in his hands.

John moved to sit beside his friend, one arm carefully touching between Sherlock’s shoulder blades ‘you haven’t’

‘You can’t even look at me’ Sherlock gasped

‘I’m looking at you now’ John smiled ‘I’m _observing you_ Sherlock’

Sherlock looked over at John, his eyes still leaking tears down his cheeks ‘tell me, what do you see?’

There was another lingering silence, John’s own eyes began to water, his lower lip trembled slightly as he whispered ‘I see home’ before pressing his lips to Sherlock’s own in a soft and sensual kiss.

Sherlock’s eyes opened and a whimper escaped his lips as John kissed him; the sensations were everything Sherlock had wanted and more, the softness of John’s lips mixed with the slight scratch of John’s evening stubble, the smell of aftershave, soap and John so close to his nose that Sherlock felt giddy and overwhelmed. His body flushed hot and cold, his fingers clenching his thigh in rough talons as John slowly opened his lips slightly, pressing his tongue against Sherlock’s lower lip begging for access. Sherlock inhaled sharply and allowed John to lick his lips, his mouth opening for John’s tongue and then it was the perfect mix of John and himself. Their tongues caressing and touching, the smell and taste of one another in their mouths was almost overwhelming for Sherlock who quickly attempted to file everything away in his mind palace, the smell, the taste, the sight, and the sounds. It was too much.

Sherlock pulled away with a shaky gasp; his fingers ached from the tense grip which he had held onto his thigh and he was trembling. John looked radiant, a pink flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck to dip below the cream jumper he was wearing, his hands were steady but his pupils were almost black with just a rim of blue around the pupils signalling his arousal.

‘John i-‘ Sherlock started before being cut off by John’s mouth again, this time the kiss was frenzied and passionate as John attacked Sherlock’s lips with his own. His tongue mounting a raid on Sherlock’s mouth as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock and stroked through the dark curls.

‘Yes’ John whispered ‘I want all of those things you said last night’

Sherlock blushed and stood up wordlessly, grabbing John’s hand he pulled the older man into his bedroom. Falling onto the bed he dragged John on top of him never pulling away from their kiss as the two men ground against one another wantonly, Sherlock ran his hands up John’s stomach and began desperately attempting to remove the woolly sweater which refused to budge much to Sherlock’s annoyance. He wondered whether he could destroy the dreadful garment before John noticed but John simply laughed and pulled the fabric over his head, working on Sherlock’s buttoned up shirt until the men were naked chest to chest; their tongues still tangling with sloppy, rushed kisses.

Trousers came off next after a short amount of wiggling and laughter, underwear was promptly thrown over John’s shoulder onto a pile on the carpeted floor. Eventually the two men lay naked together on the bed, Sherlock kissing and caressing John’s neck as John rubbed his cock against Sherlock’s own hard on.

‘yes John, yes’ Sherlock chanted, his mind aflame with sensation as John wrapped his hand around both their pricks, using their copious precum as lube to slick the friction between them. Both men hissed and groaned with pleasure as they thrust and stroked against one another,

‘Fuck me John’ Sherlock begged, his eyes wide and glazed as he focussed on his best friend ‘please, please John’

‘Oh god Sherlock, Yes, er- have you?’ John started nervously ‘I haven’t… used to keep them in my wallet’

‘Top drawer. Stole them from your old bedroom’ Sherlock smiled watching as John scrabbled for the lube and condoms which were hidden within the old wooden cabinet.

Unclicking the lube, John smeared his fingers with the greasy gel and warmed up the lotion before pressing a finger to Sherlock’s opening. Sherlock winced and startled at the sensation, slowly inhaling and exhaling he relaxed enough for John to penetrate him slowly with a single thick digit. Sherlock growled deeply as John stretched him open, the doctor’s fingers much shorter and thicker than his own.

‘Fuck Sherlock’ John whined, his own cock twitching and throbbing, leaking precum over the sheets as he worked Sherlock open and added a second finger.

Sherlock bucked from the bed at the first touch of his prostate; John smiled and used his remaining hand to wrap around the deep red flushed cock twitching in front of him. Sherlock keened loudly as John began at the base and pulled up to the tip, twisting and flicking his wrist around the head and foreskin causing Sherlock to see stars when the doctor combined each sweep with a caress of Sherlock’s prostate. The detective’s mind was falling apart like wet sand; his thoughts quieting as John stretched him open, getting him ready for John’s cock.

When John had three fingers inside Sherlock he scissored and stretched his digits ensuring that Sherlock was open enough, squirting more lube onto his fingers and straight onto the stretched rim of Sherlock’s hole John frantically pumped his fingers in and out of the tightness, listening to the erotic whimpers escaping Sherlock.

‘Now, please John now’ Sherlock begged, wrapping his legs around John in an attempt to pull him closer and tempt him inside.

‘Shit, yeh okay’ John stumbled, wiping his hands on the duvet he grabbed a condom and rolled it over his length, tugging his cock to try to stop the orgasm which was already building painfully from his toes. He smeared himself with more slick before positioning himself at Sherlock’s entrance, lowering himself to his forearms he rested them on either side of Sherlock’s head to get closer to his best friend, their stomach’s rubbing a delightful amount of friction onto Sherlock’s leaking length trapped between them. John took a deep breath and kissed Sherlock passionate as he slowly pressed himself in, feeling Sherlock clamp down almost painfully around his shaft as he stilled, allowing Sherlock to get used to the feelings.

‘God’ Sherlock choked ‘Yes John’

‘Shhhh I know’ John smiled, kissing and biting Sherlock’s lower lip ‘Relax’

Sherlock took some steadying deep breaths and relaxed his muscles allowing John to begin to move, pressing in slightly before pulling out again, and creating a slow and deliberate rhythm which built their mutual pleasure to a low burn. Sherlock wrapped his legs around John’s waist and his arms around his neck, pulling him down closer until they were no longer kissing, just breathing in the same air with the occasional brush of skin or tongue.

When John was fully sheathed inside his best friend both men groaned deeply and made eye contact; green meeting blue as the pleasure fizzed through their veins. Sherlock rocked his hips desperate for more friction both internal and external, his cock aching in its spot trapped between their fleshy stomachs. John understood immediately and began to thrust, slow and gentle at first before becoming harder and more pounding. John lifted his hips until he could press against Sherlock’s prostate with every thrust ripping moans and whines from Sherlock’s lips as the bundle of nerves was rubbed again and again, harder and harder, igniting the fuse to the most delightful orgasm Sherlock would ever experience.

John wrapped his arms under Sherlock’s shoulders and entwined his fingers into Sherlock’s inky curls, he lowered his head to Sherlock’s ear and began to nip and lick at the earlobe before whispering ‘Mine’ into Sherlock’s ear in his Captain voice causing Sherlock’s knees to go weak and his arse to clench tightly around John,

‘God yes, John, John, Joooooohn’ Sherlock screamed as he came. White strands of cum splashing over their combined stomachs as the unrelenting force of his climax hit him, his mind immediately stopped working and his eyes rolled back as John’s hips shuddered once, twice and then John was coming inside him. Sherlock momentarily regretted not being able to feel John spill inside him but immediately stopped thinking as John groaned out his name with the softest and most awe inspiring whisper that Sherlock could ever hear.

Shaking from their climaxes the two men lay together panting; John released Sherlock’s curls whilst the detective lowered his limbs from their tentacle grip around John’s body. John groaned as he pulled himself from the tightness which surrounded his cock and fell onto the cold bed beneath with a sigh,

‘That was…’ he started

‘Brilliant?’ Sherlock asked hopefully,

‘Unexpected’ John replied with a smile, unable to see Sherlock’s face fall with disappointment at his reaction.

‘Oh’ Sherlock whispered, wincing at the ache in his arse from the thorough pounding John had given him.

‘Everything alright?’ John asked concerned,

‘Yeah, I expected it to be painful’ Sherlock smiled, his fingers skimming over the sticky residue of his ejaculate on his stomach.

‘Why?’ John asked turning over to look at Sherlock quizzically,

‘They say your first time is always painful’ Sherlock shrugged

_First time, first time, first time,_ the words echoed around John’s mind

‘You mean… you were… oh god’ John said stricken, his heart pounding and his stomach heavy

‘What?’ Sherlock asked confused seeing John’s features change immediately,

‘Fuck Sherlock, That was your first time’ John blanched,

‘Yes… I told you, I don’t do relationships or sex’ Sherlock replied confused,

‘Shit, shit fuck Sherlock’ John swore, hands covering his face ‘fucking shit’

‘Well… I didn’t imagine this amount of cursing’ Sherlock smiled trying to break the tension

John stood from the bed, grabbing his clothes and dressing quickly as Sherlock watched him nervously from the filthy bed.

‘Shit i’m sorry. I have to go’ John muttered grabbing his shoes and rushing out of the flat leaving Sherlock bereft in bed blinking in bewilderment.

* * *

 

John reached home and held his keys tightly; Mary wouldn’t be in, she was visiting an old friend for dinner leaving John home alone. The doctor unlocked the door and ran straight upstairs, turning on the shower much hotter than strictly needed before stripping himself.

He was still wearing the condom and he still had visible streaks of Sherlock’s cum over his stomach. He recoiled in horror as he scrubbed the marks and pulled off the condom, tying it and flushing it down the toilet. Standing under the spray he quickly washed himself clean. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to smell like Sherlock, he didn’t want to smell of betrayal and carelessness.

Tears filled his eyes as he stood facing the water, allowing the rivers of warmth to caress his face as he thought about his actions. He had rushed Sherlock into losing his virginity without even asking what the detective wanted or how he felt, and he had cheated on his wife and their child.

He suddenly felt very sick.

* * *

 

Sherlock sat up in bed, the cover wrapped around his naked waist as he gripped his phone tightly. The door opened and his brother walked into the flat, seeing Sherlock naked for the second time that day. Mycroft sat on the end of the bed, noticing the smell of sweat, of male musk and ejaculate which lingered in the air around his baby brother,

‘Myc’ Sherlock whispered looking over at his brother before collapsing into tears.

‘Hush now brother mine’ Mycroft replied, sitting with his brother until the younger man fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

 

John’s stomach fell as he left his house the next morning to go to work. He hadn’t expected a black car to be parked outside his door; and he hadn’t expected it to be Mycroft himself in the back seat having always been Anthea to kidnap him before.

‘Get in the car _Doctor_ Watson’ Mycroft hissed his voice low and icy causing John’s stomach to twist nervously. He had never seen Mycroft so angry.

‘Look, I need to get to work’ John started before being promptly quietened by Mycroft raising a hand

‘You will get in this car John’ Mycroft insisted with a fake smile,

John sighed and climbed into the sleek vehicle; bracing himself for whatever Mycroft had planned.

They pulled into an abandoned warehouse somewhere near the Thames. Mycroft exited the car silently and walked further into the crumbling building, his umbrella tapping against the stone floor.

* * *

 

John was stunned to find Sherlock sitting on a seat in the middle of the warehouse, his head was hanging low, his eyes looked tired, and he looked utterly defeated. John walked towards his friend and attempted to check out Sherlock’s vitals but found that Sherlock flinched away from his touch as though it was burning hot. John turned to Mycroft and then back to Sherlock,

‘We’re not leaving until this is sorted’ Mycroft insisted ‘Sit down John’

‘This isn’t your business Mycroft. Keep out of it’ John sneered expecting Sherlock to join in but watching shocked as Sherlock simply kept his head down in silence.

‘Oh I disagree John. It is my business when I am called out of important security meetings to comfort my little brother who was used in the worst way possible by somebody he loved and respected. It’s my business when I find my brother crying and shaking where _you_ left him’

John stilled as though he had been slapped and looked at Sherlock; watching a tear run down Sherlock’s cheek

‘So you see John, It’s my business and even if it wasn’t. I would make it my business’ Mycroft said icily ‘I’ll leave you to talk’

Mycroft turned and walked back towards the waiting car; his umbrella tapping getting quieter as he left. Sherlock flinched and looked up at John,

‘I didn’t mean for it to get to this’

‘This isn’t your fault’ John soothed attempting to touch Sherlock then thinking better of it and dropping his hand to his own knee ‘It’s mine’

‘If I hadn’t have called you’ Sherlock sniffed,

‘I don’t regret what happened’ John insisted ‘Not one bit. I love you Sherlock and I think we both know that there is something between us that we can’t fight’

Sherlock bit his lip and looked up at John nervously ‘But Mary’

‘Exactly’ John sighed ‘and the baby’

‘I don’t want to live without you’ Sherlock choked, fresh tears forming ‘I thought I’d lost you when you ran’

‘I freaked out as i hurt you… with it being your first time… I wasn’t gentle’ John blushed

Sherlock blinked and gaped at John ‘Is that why you left? You thought you had hurt me?’

John nodded and looked over at Sherlock who smiled a watery smile ‘You’re an idiot’

The tension was broken and both men began to giggle childishly as they realised the situation. Sherlock stood and wrapped his arms around John’s neck tightly, crying into the soft skin as he felt John hug him against his body tightly. Their giggles turning into soft sniffles as they embraced.

‘Now if you excuse me’ Mycroft interrupted ‘I’m needed back at the office so if you would like a lift I suggest you finish your business now’

Both men looked at Mycroft before kissing passionately, their hands running through one another’s hair as their tongues caressed one another. Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked back to the car waiting for the new couple to join him.

* * *

 

John and Sherlock had taken it slowly. No sex, limited sexual content except kissing and the occasional desperate handjob between cases.

John had expected to feel guilty for cheating on Mary but it never came; his two loves were separate entities which existed purely in their own world. Sherlock was the red hot, fiery embrace which wrapped itself around John’s heart and burned him from the inside out with need and desperation. Passion and need wrapped up in friendship and love. Sherlock was the other half of his being, the heads to his tails, the ying to his yang and other terrible clichés.

Mary was the pure, fresh and easy part of his life; the part which had been promised to him since childhood, the dutiful wife carrying their first child. Life was simple with Mary, nights of tedium and simplicity to reflect off the wild, passionate nights with Sherlock.

Until Magnusson. Until Mary had shot Sherlock. Until the baby turned out to be a lie.

Suddenly John’s life had been turned upside down; Most of his life turned upside down in an instant.

No wife, no child, no real marriage, no trust, no future with Mary.

John moved back in with Sherlock, their relationship cooling to friends once more until John could wrap his head around the betrayal he had been dealt. John made the tea whilst Sherlock paced and solved puzzles, they raced around London catching criminals and avoiding Mycroft. John learnt to laugh and relax again, Sherlock loved seeing the happiness etched on his partners face.

Walking home from the clinic one night; John’s brain had a revelation which stunned him. He realised that he couldn’t live without Sherlock in his life, he had always been in love with the detective but unable or unwilling to accept it. Nobody except Mycroft knew about their dalliance and John was hurt that he had hidden himself away from his friends and Sherlock.

Picking up flowers on the way home he climbed the stairs and found Sherlock showering; dropping the flowers into the bathroom sink John quickly undressed and climbed under the spray with Sherlock, kissing and nuzzling down the pale skin of Sherlock’s spine until the detective groaned and pushed back against John’s broad and powerful chest.

‘Be with me’ John whispered over the running water ‘forever’

Sherlock knit his eyebrows together and turned to look at John; their eyes met and a spark passed between them as John ran his finger over Sherlock’s cheekbone softly ‘I’ve been a fool. I love you Sherlock’

‘I love you too’ Sherlock whispered closing the distance to kiss John passionately.

‘Then let me take you to bed, properly’

Sherlock nodded and took Johns hand as they climbed from the shower and into Sherlock’s bedroom. Their still wet bodies sticking to the duvet as they relaxed onto the mattress, John kissing Sherlock softly as he traced his fingers over Sherlock’s skin,

‘I want to kiss every inch of you’ John whispered, his voice deeper and more velvet than ever.

‘Yes John’ Sherlock whimpered as John began kissing his cheeks, over his jawline and forehead, over his throat and neck.

His fingers skimmed the soft skin which was littered with scars from Sherlock’s time away ( _and the one provided by Mary)_. John kissed every bump, every flaw and imperfection and thanked each and every one for bringing him back. He licked and sucked at the tightened nubs of Sherlock’s nipples and ran his tongue through the short hairs from Sherlock’s navel.

Sherlock’s face was flushed, his breathing heavy as John continued further and further down.

Lips explored Sherlock’s thighs and groin, ignoring the protruding hardness which twitched with want. John kissed down the long, graceful legs to the arch of Sherlock’s foot, stroking the ticklish skin he focused on the ankle, then the knee, then back up to the join of thigh and stomach.

‘Every inch’ John insisted helping Sherlock to turn over whilst kissing down his arms and fingers

Sherlock trembled in John’s arms as the doctor moved down the scarred back. Sherlock stiffened and whimpered as John nuzzled his nose against the long slash marks from the whips in Siberia, the smaller cuts from the bar fight in Greece, the pebbledash scarring from his fall from the motorbike in Brazil. Each kiss was like lightening through Sherlock’s veins.

John reached his lower back and placed sloppy kisses on the dimples above his arse cheeks, laving them with his tongue as he spread Sherlock’s cheeks and pressed a wet and teasing kiss at Sherlock’s entrance feeling the younger man tighten and yelp with surprise at the shocking sensation which ran through him.

‘N-No-Nobody has ever done that’ Sherlock whispered, his voice shaking with need

‘And nobody except me will. You’re mine’ John growled from between his cheeks, his tongue circling the puckered muscle before dipping into the hole, making Sherlock cry out again.

‘So perfect’ John whispered into Sherlock’s flesh as he kissed and bit along the plump buttocks before diving back into Sherlock’s hole.

Sherlock was on the edge of begging; he wanted John so much he wasn’t sure how much more teasing he could take. His cock leaked between his legs causing slick to rub across Sherlock’s stomach and bedding,

‘Turn back over. I want to see your face when I make love to you for the first time’ John whispered, kissing Sherlock’s neck as he moved

Sherlock positioned himself correctly as John slipped between his thighs; pouring lubricant on his fingers he quickly slipped them inside Sherlock, stretching the younger man open quickly and efficiently. John focussed on ensuring that the experience wouldn’t be painful and slicked himself up too using more lube than was strictly necessary but unwilling to risk hurting Sherlock.

‘Look at me’ John whispered, his voice full of emotion,

Their eyes met as John entered Sherlock slowly, pushing himself inside deeply whilst holding Sherlock tightly to his body never losing eye contact as they came together, their hips grinding against one another as they made love.

‘Y-You didn’t put a condom on’ Sherlock stammered, his hands gripping John’s shoulders tightly

‘I need to feel you Sherlock’ John gasped as Sherlock tightened his muscles with a coy smile ‘You feel amazing’

The two men rocked together, John pulling out slightly to push back in and hit Sherlock’s prostate causing another stream of precum to rub against their skin. Sherlock wrapped his legs around John, burying his head in John’s neck as he whimpered and moaned as he approached the edge of his orgasm.

‘Close. So close’ Sherlock chanted ‘John please’

John grabbed Sherlock’s head and turned it so they were looking directly at one another once more ‘I love you Sherlock Holmes’

‘John, John, John’ Sherlock chanted as he came, gripping John tightly inside him, his muscles milking John’s own release. The younger man stiffened and groaned again as he felt the warmth of John spilling inside him, rope after rope of hot cum coating his insides and marking him as John’s alone.

‘I L-Love you John Watson’ Sherlock whimpered, his body trembling with bliss.

* * *

 

The wedding was a small affair; a simple registry office with Mrs Hudson and Lestrade as witnesses whilst Mycroft hugged Mummy Holmes closely as she wept happy tears at seeing her youngest child so content. Molly Hooper had baked the wedding cake which was perfect and simple; she smiled graciously as both grooms kissed her cheeks, their hands resting on her pregnant stomach as her husband smiled besides her watching happily.

John had beamed with joy when Sherlock entered the registry office, his eyes filling with tears as they signed the marriage certificate and a chuckle escaping his lips as they kissed whilst their loved ones showered them with confetti outside the building.

Returning to Baker Street after the evening meal both men collapsed into bed, kissing and laughing together as they planned their future as Mr and Mr Holmes-Watson.


End file.
